


Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

by MochixMochi



Category: Room of Swords (Webcomic)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild cussing, Multi, This is for you Discord, This is my first fanfiction aND NO I AM NOT SORRY., reader - Freeform, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MochixMochi/pseuds/MochixMochi
Summary: Don, leader of the Room of Swords, tells you to meet him in his bedroom in the middle of the night. What could possibly be waiting for you?
Relationships: Don Santiago/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my e waif](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+e+waif).



> They said it wasn’t possible. That no man would dare to do something so blasphemous. Unfortunately, I’m bored and have too have much time on my hands. 
> 
> Special thanks to Clownery for translating the last spanish line for me, and to Yæhaw and Soap for the beautiful opening and closing artwork, respectively. Thank you Arc for your beautiful live reading as well, which made me shed tears of laughter. 
> 
> Now I present to you, my magnum opus (and first fic), Don Santiago X Reader...

  
  


~~~  
  


It is 3:00AM in the Room of Swords, and the time Don set for you to meet him in his room. Your hand shakes and heart pounds as you reach out to grasp the doorknob. What could Don possibly want with you? Though looks have exchanged between the two of you, you don’t ever recall a time where you ever talked. This fact made you very, very nervous. However… you also couldn’t help but feel a bit excited as well.

Finally, you gain the courage to turn the knob and step inside. There, waiting for you is Don himself. He’s dressed in his typical dress-shirt and khakis.

“Ah, y/n, amigo, I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. I’m terribly sorry to ask you to come here at such a late hour. Come sit down, won’t you join me?”

Your steps feel heavy as you slowly approach Don. You can’t help but notice how simple and neat his room is. His bed is perfectly made, and not a single piece of furniture appears disorderly. You sit down on the bed, facing Don. His bed smells like him. Your legs tremble.

“Don’t be nervous,” he chuckles lightly. His laugh makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Don…Was there something you needed?” You ask suddenly. Maybe it was too soon to ask. Was he leading up to something?

Don sighs and looks up at your face. Your eyes meet. Wow, you never noticed how _deep_ and pretty his eyes are.

“Y/N… I know we have never talked before, but— I couldn’t help but notice you watching me earlier.”

You freeze. Your whole body becomes a solid brick of ice. He saw you? You didn’t think he noticed, but indeed, he had. What could you say? You’ve never seen a person without legs before. But you can’t tell someone with no legs that. That’s fucked up.

“I… Don… I can explain—“ you sputter out, trying to come up with an excuse to hide your shitty manners. But before you can continue, Don wheels a bit closer to you and lightly presses your mouth to hush you.

“Shh, amigo, I understand.” He whispers. You simply nod in response, eyes widened. With his other hand, he grasps one of yours. He can feel you tremble in his hold, and smiles.

“I know a look of longing when I see one.”

...

…

What the fuck was he talking about?

Now you sit there, confused even more. Longing? Is that what Don had thought? That you… were longing for him? Well it was certainly a better conclusion for him to come up with compared to the truth, so you decide to accept the lie and give in.

“A-ah! Yes… Don.. I’m sorry. I… I couldn’t help myself, “ you apologize quickly. Wait. Backtrack. Now he thinks you weren’t just staring at him, but you were ogling him? Oh god, oh shit. Now you weren’t just rudely staring at his lack-of-a-lower-half, you were eyeing him up head to no-toes like a _juicy_ morsel of steak. Fuck.

Don seems a bit surprised by your ‘honesty’ with the situation, but keeps moving forward. He chuckles again.

“It is alright, amigo, I have just never met someone so straightforward before.” Don moves to lower his finger from your mouth, but instead cups your cheek in his palm.

“It is certainly alright.”

Your face heats up and heart thumps. Is this going where you think it is? Though you are a bit shocked, you strangely… do not feel opposed to Don’s advances. What was this feeling? Was it really a look of longing? Were not not some ableist bastard after all? You gulp and stare back into Don’s eyes. Now it seems like he’s the one with a look of longing.

“I must admit y/n, I have not spoken with you much (at all, you want to correct), but I truly have been captivated by you since you joined us. Somehow, it truly feels as if fate has brought us together. Everything you do is just so… _muy bueno_.”

Wow, the spanish was pretty hot. You feel yourself wanting to sink into his embrace… but you must resist him and his stupid, _sexy_ accent. No… there’s no way you’re in love with Don!

“Don— _wait_!” you cry, pulling back. “This… no… we can’t be together.” You look away and try to hide the tears welling in your eyes.

“Can’t be together? _Pourquoi_?” He tilts his head with great sadness.

OH NO!!! He knows the language of love as well ?!! It suddenly becomes much, _much_ harder for you. To resist him, I mean. You peek out from clenched eyelids to see he is practically centimetres from your face. He’s frowning. He looks hurt.

“I…. ” — you try to quickly come up with something.

“I have a foot fetish!”

…

…

Nice! Good thinking! You practically give yourself a pat on the back for that. Someone who had their feet burned off by a shadow can’t possibly satisfy your primal desires for the human _pedibus_. He has no choice but to give up on you. You have drawn the line with him. He must understand. You **cannot** be together.

“...A foot fetish?” Don is even more surprised. He pauses for a second to think then without warning, pulls a potted plant from his side. Where he pulled it out from remains a mystery, but you still eye him with curiosity.

Slowly, Don lowers his head and puckers his moist, glistening lips. He whispers something that sounds vaguely like the macarena to the plant, and it begins to violently shake. You haven’t seen anyone shake that hard to the macarena since your uncle broke his hip dancing at your cousin’s wedding last summer. As you start to question why the fucking plant dances better than he did, out of its branches sprout ripe, red fruit.

Tomatoes.

...

Juicy, red tomatoes.

...

They are in the shape of feet.

You gasp very loudly. The curve of the sole, the _bulbous_ shape of the heel, it’s _floppy_ appendages. It is a real, genuine, toma-toe.

You want to cry. It’s so beautiful. The more you stare the more you want to cry…. so you start crying, and Don holds you. He gently rocks you back and forth in his firm arms.

“I know I can never really give you what you want, but I want this to work. I want us to work. _Haría cualquier cosa por ti…. hermoso, bastardo amador de pies_.”

And this is how the night ends. The foot plant in your arms, dried tears on your cheeks, and Don by your side. Your heart has calmed down, but a new, warm feeling fills you. Metaphorically. And although you could never tell him the truth, well, maybe in the end that was for the best. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid, after all.

_**FIN** _

_**** _


End file.
